Sense
by silverpheonixchick
Summary: Barry still can't figure out why. Dick Grayson/Barry Allen


It didn't make sense.

Barry shifted uncomfortably at the West's dinner table, trying to ignore the sensation - growing more and more insistent - of the foot traveling up his leg.

The bare foot.

The bare foot belonging to the boy across from him, with dark bangs that brushed the top of his sunglasses, a tiny, knowing smirk twitching at the corner of this mouth. Head propped casually on one hand, eyes trained downward on his ice-cream bowl, Dick lazily took another bite of the chocolate chunk. His foot slid over Barry's thigh now and landed right in his crotch.

Barry stiffened instinctually, gaze darting to the stragglers at the table: Mary had just cleaned up her plate and headed toward the kitchen. Wally was thoroughly distracted making eyes at his girlfriend, Artemis. She returned the favor.

A shaky breath calmed Barry's nerves, and he dug as slowly as he could through his brownie topped with chocolate ice cream. Robin's toes kneaded his growing erection now, and he involuntarily closed his eyes.

Three months.

It had been three months of this, and it still didn't make sense.

* * *

It began with ice cream, too, on the way home after dinner together at the West's. Robin had intercepted Barry at the door, laughing and joking as he put on his coat about how he missed out on the ice cream at dinner because Wally had "accidentally" finished it all before he got his bowl. Barry grinned and offered to get some if Robin didn't mind walking to the ice cream parlor. He would love the company, since Iris was gone on business that day.

Half an hour and two scoops of mint chocolate chip later, though, Barry was oblivious to the way Robin carefully, slowly ran his tongue over the soft serve; he didn't quite notice the obscene way the brunette nipped at the tip. He didn't notice that Robin did it on purpose as they reclined on a park bench and talked shop. He didn't notice until the teen, just an inch or two shorter than he, leaned over and held his wrist so that he could lick a drop of ice cream smudging the side of Barry's mouth.

Three months.

Three months ago, Robin - no, "Robert," an obvious alias - wound up on Barry's couch grinding down onto his lap, swollen against his jeans, tasting of cookies and cream, tongue pushing insistently over Barry's lips. Barry couldn't explain - he couldn't say why he'd nodded numbly 'yes' on that park bench when the younger whispered in his ear, asking if he could see Barry's house. _He just wants to see where Flash lives_, Barry told himself, _he just __**accidentally**__ licked_ …

The thought fell away as they walked the rest of the way to the Allen home.

Barry had even thrown on the TV after they arrived - _Law and Order_ - as a distraction, a way to diffuse the tension winding tighter inside him. He stood awkwardly in the tv room, but the acrobat breezed through the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, hands in pockets, politely complimenting pictures and knickknacks. He breezed through the house without an invitation, like he belonged. He was unreadable, eyes hidden behind the opaque lenses of his sunglasses.

Flash still couldn't see his eyes twenty minutes later, when Robin was boldly sliding his hands up Barry's shirt, rubbing calloused thumbs over sensitive nipples, and maybe that was _why_. Maybe he was just curious: maybe he'd see the Boy Wonder's eyes, maybe he'd learn his real name, maybe Robin would tell him what to really call him as he …

Another thought he drowned, drowned it in a moan into Robin's mouth, and later he drowned it out again as he muttered "Robin" went he came down the brunette's throat, hands fisted into the couch cushions.

* * *

Three months, for three months, whenever Iris went away on business - every single time, and really he shouldn't have been surprised - Robin would show up with a rap on his window, in civvies, in uniform, in whatever he'd been last wearing. The teen had brought it into his home; Barry had lost count.

But Robin had never brought it into the West house.

The pressure on his cock - now aching for real attention - was gone. Barry glanced up and so was Robin.

It didn't make sense.

* * *

Everyone else had shuffled away from the table, settling into the family room to throw on a Dreamwork's movie - the name escaped Barry at that moment. He hung back a little, waiting to be more … "presentable," waiting for the strain in his pants to lessen. When he finally made his way over to the tv room, though, Robin wasn't there; he wasn't tucked between the couch arm and his best friend where Barry expected him. No, Iris had filled that spot, and Wally was leaning to the other side, head resting against Artemis's, fingers intertwined with hers.

Barry stood awkwardly at the doorway -there weren't really any empty chairs now - and felt a light buzz in his pocket. He pulled out his iPhone and as the screen lit up, he almost dropped it. A video - labelled _closed feed_ - played automatically, and Barry barely got the sound down in time to drown out soft pants and a moan and a slick sound before anyone else noticed.

Because Robin was in the _bathroom_, the upstairs bathroom filled with pink and light blue towels, kneeling on the floor over his cell phone camera in lace and silk purple lingerie.

Barry couldn't move, he couldn't breathe.

The angle was such that he could only see Dick's lower half - the camera rested on the floor facing his crotch, the inside of his white thighs straddling it. He shifted, and Barry saw the source of the slick sound, Dick's fingers had tugged aside silk cloth covering his ass and drove two shiny fingers into himself. He rocked back onto the digits until he jerked and fell forward, striking a spot that Barry's fingers had found several times before. Now Robin's abs came into view: he was on his knees and one hand as he continued to thrust.

The head of his cock strained against lace at his navel; it looked like a teddy with a silk lower half rising up his abs into intricate lace. A light red pattern formed where the head pressed against it, a bead of pre-cum pooling on his slit and seeping through the threads. It dripped toward the camera lens and fell just above it, and Barry didn't bother to announce that he was leaving as he headed for the upstairs bathroom.

* * *

Robin's head was bowed when Barry slipped through the door and shut it, so slowly, so quietly behind him. The teen, knees spread, edge to edge on the blue bathmat, arm reaching between his legs, two fingers pumping into him, didn't look up when Barry came in.

His panting picked up the pace, though, and he bit his lip to suppress a whine.

Discarded sunglasses knocked against Barry's shoes, and he dropped to his knees by the brunette's head. A strangled whine escaped the younger as Flash cupped Robin's jaw, tilting his head up with bated breath ...

... but the mask was on, as it always was when the glasses came off. Disappointed, a little, but not surprised, Barry hid behind a bright gentle genuine smile, running his fingers over Robin's bottom lip, parting one pink surface from its mate above, letting the acrobat lick over his thumb, grab it, suck it into his mouth, exploring the textures of its skin. Soon the brunette was practically blowing it, and Barry's free hand went to his belt buckle to replace the thumb with something much hotter.

Robin brushed his hand aside once the button came unclasped, taking the zipper between his porcelain teeth and tugging, tugging until Barry's pants pooled below his hips, and Robin could mouth his way past the green boxers to Barry's rather impressive erection.

He paused, lips just grazing the tip, and stared up at the blond pointedly. His fingers continued their even in and out motion into himself. Barry fumbled for a minute for the brunette's meaning, before he realized that his spit soaked thumb was going to waste. As he leaned to the side so that it could join the two digits already deep inside robin, the teen hummed appreciatively and swallowed Barry in one stroke.

The speedster started, and his thumb entered him a little more roughly than Barry hand intended, but Robin just shivered and pushed as enthusiastically back onto his hand as he pushed forward onto the older man's dick. He sucked with unusual skill, a stark shift from his awkward, fumbling ministratons three months ago, still bliss then, but compared to now ...

Regardless, Barry was sure that the moment on the couch had been the first time Robin had tasted another man in his mouth. It had been the same for himself just four days later when he returned the favor, and Robin had whispered "Flash" as his hips stuttered under his climax.

A steady rythmn emerged on the floor of the bathroom now, the Robins's muffled moans played counterpoint to the slick sounds of Barry entering him, thumb first and then replaced with a long finger next to Robin's, and Barry felt the lightheadness that warned him of his oncoming orgasm.

"S-so good," he encouraged, and Robin whined around him, picking up the pace and hurriedly squeezing another finger inbetween the four already in him.

He directed another pointed stare at Barry, and the older man had no idea how Robin could communicate so clearly through blank white lenses. He slowed in shock as he got the message.

"... You ... you want me ..." he whispered, trying to come up with a delicate way to phrase it, "... You want me inside you?"

Robin, mouth still full of Barry, whined an affirmative around his dick and pumped even faster.

"Oh _god_," the speedster hissed, barely holding himself back as he matched Robin's rhythm. Three months of careful negotiation, three months of doing everything _but_, three months of the hottest tongue, the sweetest throat, the most skillful fingers, but every time Barry made an overture to the next step Robin dodged, distracting him, delaying. And of course Barry understood.

But now Robin was asking - _let's not kid ourselves_ - demanding that Barry be inside him - _just __**fuck**__ him already_ - for the first time ...

... on the floor of Wally West's bathroom.

"Don't swallow," the blond gasped, barely getting the words out before he was overwhelmed. Robin backed up immediately, lips wrapped just around his head, tongue pressed against his opening, forcing Barry's cum to pool around it, carefully preventing it from sliding down his throat.

Barry spasmed one more time, involuntarily vibrating around the edges before stilling, and then pulled out with a sucking pop from the younger's mouth. A thin strand of salvia and cum hung from his tip to Robin's lower lip, and he stared at it in fascination until it broke. Barry grinned and shed his pants. Running his free hand through Robin's dark locks, he directed the teen's masked gaze upward and gently opened his mouth so that the could coat his fingers and then his cock with what was left of his orgasm.

Flash positioned himself behind the boy, pressing lighly between his shoulder blades, and Robin turned one cheek to the floor as Barry wiped the excess from his mouth over his entrance.

"Wait," he whispered, reaching over to fish his phone out of his pocket. "I want you to see this."

He propped his phone against the wall by Robin's head and held the one that still had lain between the younger's thighs just above his cock, which now rested in between the acrobat's ass cheeks.

The video still ran, and the brunette swallowed as the thick shaft slid back until the head pressed just outside his hole.

"... Are you sure?" Barry asked quietly, but all the brunette did was moan and push back against him.

Barry braced himself and pushed back until the tip of his cock popped past the squeeze of Robin's muscles.


End file.
